A Game of Lives
by SkywaterBlue
Summary: What happens between "A Game of You" and "Brief Lives". It's told as a story, written by Thessaly.
1. Default Chapter

A Game of Lives

  


By Tori Morris

Disclaimer: The Sandman, and all related characters, including Thessaly and Dream, Lucien and all the others belong to DC. They're all the brain children of Neil Gaimen...I'm just borrowing them to fill in a missing space with some imagining of my own.

Summary: Thessaly writes about the time she spent in The Dreaming between "A Game of You" and "Brief Lives"

Notes: Um...I am aware that Destiny said that Thessaly had no feelings for Morpheus...but, I don't care! There are things outside his garden, after all. ;) Write me feedback, and I'll make more chapters of Thessaly's story. Don't, and this'll be all you get.

  


~~~

  


I'm making no excuses: this is a story, and a true story at that. My name is-well, actually, I don't remember my real name anymore. That's the excuse for writing this, you see. If I write it, and even if no one but me will ever see it, (not true, by the way) I'll never have an excuse for forgetting.

It's been a couple of years since the events described occurred. You can call me Thessaly, as it's closer to a real name than any I've had lately. I was born 3000 years ago in Greece, but live today in Las Vegas, Nevada. A funny place to live, if ever there was one, and even more so for me. I work in a casino-would you believe that? In a casino that's supposed to be theamed after ancient Greece, but as one from there, I can honestly say it's nothing like the real thing. But it's about as different from Chicago as one can get, and that's the point.

To understand how I met him, you have to understand who I am. I am a witch. A three thousand year old bookworm, with a passion for my gods, and a desire to learn constantly. Before, I had moved around quite a bit, and even now, I lived in Chicago after a bad incident in New York.

I had this neighbor, Barbie, you see, who had become enchanted by a bad dream. So, me and a nice couple, (an aside-one of the couple later became very famous. Who would've thought?) who lived next to the girl, did something about it. I killed the original sender of the dream, and then drew down the moon to rescue her. An act, which neither easy, nor fun, put my life in danger. 

Once in the dream, we got things sorted fairly quickly. And that's when he showed up-the King of Dreams. The third oldest of the Endless. I knew enough about him from my childhood to not want to have anything to do with him-or them. Especially him. He's known for being aloof, and vengeful. They used to warn us, in the days, about crossing his bad side. 

Not to mention, he has-no had, pretty powerful siblings. Death, in particular, was no anthropomorphic being I ever want to meet. I tried to beat a path out of there as soon as possible, without raising any ire of the Lord Shaper...

Damnit! It's only been four years and already the details are slipping out of my fingers. 

In any case, I ended up threatening him, which I doubt he took a liking too. But when we woke up, we were all safe. Well, most of us anyhow. The transsexual friend of Barbie had died when the building collapsed around us, in the Hurricane. I consider myself lucky for only one casualty, but none the less feel guilty. I wonder if it was my spell that caused the hurricane to veer off path. 

It's funny, how people change. Twenty years ago, I might not have cared who died in my attempts to do something. At the time, all I cared about was getting back at whomever threatened me. Now?

  


Needless to say, after being homeless, I decided that New York had been enough for me for a while. I pulled all my cash out of the bank, and went stalking off, to Chicago. They had a nice enough university there, where I attended some more classes, and spent much of my time in the library. I'd been there three months, when I dreamed for the first time since the incident.

~~~

I turned around slowly, on a gravely cliff overlooking the waves. Strikingly similar to the dreamworld of the Barbie. I looked for a time out at the ocean, each second passing, more sure that this was the skerry. And suddenly, I knew I wasn't alone. 

I whirled around, and he was there. The King of Dreams. He's tall, lanky, and foreboding. His skin is as white as the paper I write on, or even whiter, lacking that natural pinkish tinge blood gives to mortal skin. His hair is constantly tousled, and it looks as if he'd never bothered to comb it. And his eyes...his eyes are as dark as ink, blacker than the farthest depths of the sea, like hollow sockets. Except, they're not. They are simply black, and occasionally, they'll sparkle with the light, or his own inner powers.

He was wearing his formal cape, decorated with flames on the edges, and didn't look either pleased or displeased to be here. I imagine it was just another dream to him. 

"What are you doing here?" I sputtered in a low tone. I don't take kindly to unannounced visitors, even if I was in his realm.

**"I...I am not entirely sure, but you dreamed of me, so I came. What do you want, witch-woman?"** He said, in that low intoxicating voice of his. You've heard it, but I'll describe it further. It's a dark, deep, male voice, with an air of mystery about it. Like he knew everything there was to know, or at least, a lot more than you do, in particular. It sounds rich, and if you'd heard it, you would like to hear him say some more. Or you wouldn't, depending upon the tone of voice.

But that's not what I was thinking at this point. I was angry. "I didn't dream of you. I rarely dream."

He cocked an eyebrow, and stood up taller. **"I know that. But I am here now."** A wind blew around us. I took careful notice of it at the time-the weather in the Dreaming is subject to it's ruler's feelings, and can give accurate clues as to his mood. And I wasn't so stupid as to feel reckless about him. Rather, I felt like the mongoose in front of the snake must feel: tense, and waiting for the first strike.

"So you're here. I have no reason for you to be here, and you have no reason either," I pause. A dangerous ruse, but I supposed it from his tone. _Watch it girl_, a thought whispered in the back of my mind. ", so why don't you leave, and tend to your kingdom?"

It almost worked too. He turned around slowly, as if to leave, but then faced me again. **"I have no pressing matters to attend to."**

I cocked my eyebrow, in turn. This sounded unlikely, coming from the mouth of one of the Endless, but I hadn't another stratagem to get rid of him with. We stood in uncomfortable silence, the two of us. I imagine we both looked the same in that moment, with our arms crossed, staring. I was busy, thinking of ways to wake myself up, and he was probably enjoying our version of the staring game, in some odd way.

Then I woke up.

  


~~~ 

  


One might think that the end of the story, but, it wasn't. I went about my day as normal, but oddly weirded out. In my entire life, I've met only two of the Endless: Dream, and Despair. I liked neither of them, nor the reputation of the others. Before I went to sleep the next night, I considered spells, but figured it would be highly unlikely he would want anything to do with me again.

I was wrong. I was, apparently, a new and interesting game for him, because I was in the same skerry, and, just as before, he appeared. 

"You again?" I muttered.

**"I wish to continue this conversation."** He said, and promptly crossed his arms again. 

We were staring again. Time seemed unfortunately slow, for me, and I was loosing resolve. I am only mortal, after all, if long-lived. I quickly figured out that I could not win this game. He knew it too, and smirked a bit before I turned my head away to consider the ocean.

I remember being vaguely belligerent at the time; I hated losing. I faced him again, my eyes still watery from being open for so long. 

"Well, you won, gonna leave now?"

"**Did you really think you could beat me at it?"**

"Yes." I said, with more confidence than I felt. Three-thousand years will give you a backbone. 

He cocked his eyebrow in response. I sighed. 

**"Why are you so confident? You are in my realm, and I rule this place. What makes you think you could get the better of me?"**

"Others have gotten the better of your kind before. It isn't impossible." 

He looked away, as if experiencing some discomfort at a memory. **"Yes."** he said softly, for his cold voice, at least.

I think it was at this moment I no longer feared him. Not only had he admitted he could be beaten, but he had shown some emotion. I had teased it out of him, perhaps. The silence continued, and the wind beat a little harder, until he looked back at me. A new game had promptly been started between the two of us, and we both recognized it. 

**"Why do you wish to win this game? Because you thought you could?"**

"Close enough."

**"Ah." ** He seemed to make note of this. More silence.

"Don't you have things to do?" I desperately grasped. He should. My mind felt foggy. 

**"It can wait."**

"Why wait for me? I'm just a dreamer."

** "Because I don't wish to lose**." 

He smirked , and I grasped for something to respond to that. But before I could, I woke up.

  


~~~

  


Lucien the librarian noted the new volume with some trepidation. He knew the author, which was unusual. He hesitated slightly before picking up the book to read it. He wasn't at all positive if he really wanted to know the information he suspected the book contained. All the same...he creaked open the brand new book and started to flip the first page...

  


~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**A Game of Lives **

_ ~Chapter Two-How does one go about making conversation with the king of Dreams?-Denial is not a river in Egypt-Kindly Landladies-The gift~_

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit slow, maybe. I think the whole thing is running a bit slow. Anyhow, Helen is mine. 

***

I waited all day, that day. Sat, in university classes, in the library, in my apartment. I sat and formulated something to say to that. 'I don't wish to lose.' Fine. Don't wish it. 

As soon as I thought it respectable, I put my head on the pillow and went to sleep. Not too late, not to early. I should have been worried about that; my excessive tracking of time. It should have been one of the signs that I had been looking for. Denial. 

And sure enough, he was there. 

**"Greetings again, witch-woman."** he said in that inky deep voice of his. 

"And to you, Dream-Lord." I swear, on the gods, he almost looked pleased at being greeted. 

"Why do we keep meeting?" I asked again.

**"Do you wish it to stop?"**

And part of me said, 'Yes, it's dangerous to meet one of the Endless.' And another said, 'No!' and a third part said, 'Does he?' I was upset with myself. I hadn't been so conflicted since the roman empire. It wasn't in my nature to be conflicted.

"And if I don't?" I said warily. 

**"Then it seems only proper that we must converse." **

"About what?"

**"Whatever you wish. You are my guest."**

"I thought you were here because I wanted it." 

**"That is also true."**

"Hmph."

**"Tell me...what do you do?"**

"What are you doing?" 

**"Making conversation."**

Fine then. I'll play this game. "I work in a library."

** "A librarian."**

"Yes."

**"You read them as well?"**

I snorted. "Of course." 

**"I must admit that it has been ages since I walked in my own library and read."**

"Why?" I'm immediately interested in the library, but it seems base of me to ask to see it.

**"I was away-and after that, I was busy."**

I file this for later interest. "Ah. Well, you should take it up again." 

**"I mean to. What kind of books do you like?"** he asks, trying not to sound that interested in what books I liked. I thought it was some kind of trick question.

"I've read almost everything, and I like books for being books. I read a lot of mythology and art books and the classics." 

He looked out to the ocean. **"Which one is your favorite."**

"Huh..."

**"The one you enjoy more than all of the others." **

"I don't think I have one. No, wait. There is one. The Divine Comedy, by Dante. What's yours?"

**"I have read many books."**

"You don't have a favorite?" I said mockingly. 

He glared at me. **"The Tempest."** And then turned right back to his dream ocean.

"It's a good one." I say. I remember so clearly, feeling daring by this sudden confidence in one more powerful than I. It had been ages, and I still remember as a younger one, spouting off to authority to prove myself worth. A sudden remembrance, that that was how I gained entry into the coven. Ah. But, back to the story, that was what I did then.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and all our little life is rounded with sleep." I quoted, with an eyebrow up. 

**"With a sleep."** he corrected, and looked at me, with a smirk. 

I paused and looked at him again, and much softer. "Yes. With a sleep."

***

On reflection, that was where it all started. Not the earlier conversations, or the meetings on the cliff. Or maybe I delude myself even now into thinking that. But after that, our meetings were different. We'd chat long hours of my sleep, about books and literature and art and history. It never once occurred to me that I had a side of him that no one else in the universe did. I suspect, if I had, then I would have felt more subconscious about it.

It was, quite possibly, the most unusual conversation ever. Not that it was continual, of course, rather, it would start whenever I got to sleep, and end whenever I woke up, only to be started again as soon as I fell asleep again. 

I knew that whatever my problem was, it was getting serious. Even I am not that stupid, and once, when I started speaking to him in the middle of the day, I knew I had a problem. And I had to get help. 

***

"Hey, Larissa." said my landlady, who conveniently lived on the first floor. She was a kindly woman, of about thirty, with blond shaggy hair and a dreamy attitude about her all the time. Most evenings, she sat outside her door on a plastic chair, and talked up the residents as they came in. I seem to remember overhearing once that she just loved talking to people. 

"Hello there, yourself, Helen."

"You always come home so fast. You don't even check your mail most of the time, just tromp up to you room." 

"I know." I looked at her. When one has a problem, one needs to talk to it with someone, as much as it isn't in my nature to discuss my problems with others.

"What happens when you think you are spending too much time with a person."

"Who? Your boyfriend?"

"What? No." She looked confused as soon as I said it.

"A person." I supplied, while wondering if that was the correct word.

"A friend." she said firmly. 

"I suppose." was my response.

"A male friend?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes. He is male."

"Well, in my experience, there has to be a reason you feel uncomfortable around that male friend. Why don't you tell me what is making you uncomfortable?"

"I spend too often talking to him, and when I am not, I find myself thinking of him." I paused. 

She smiled then. "Oh, Larissa! That's sweet. A crush."

"No."

"Whatever you say." she said, a smug smile on her face. I remember conflicting thoughts as whether to smack her or tell her it wasn't so. I ended up glaring.

She continued anyhow. "You know, I'm a hopeless romantic, dear. So sit down," she said, and pointed to another folded plastic chair by the wall. "and tell me all about him."

"I have to go." I lied. She looked at me kindly. "Well, ok, dear, but some other time, ok?"

"Yes." I said, and beat a hasty retreat to my room. That night, I didn't fall asleep right away, but rather, sat awake thinking. Just staring at my ceiling, unwilling to fall asleep, and unwilling to do anything else. 

***

The following weeks were much the same; work, sleep, work and sleep. Every day, I walked by Helen twice and she smiled, and sometimes inquired about my 'friend'. And I would go to the library, and try to stay on task, and not drift off into his realm. I'd bring books home, and try to read, but I couldn't keep away. There was something about his voice, about the conversations we had, that made me keep coming back. And as far as I know, he didn't notice it. But he did keep coming back.

Then one night, I showed up, and he was sitting on a chair he had made for himself. 

**"I have something to ask."** I cocked my eyebrow, but inside I was shaking. 

"Say it then." I said, with I hoped more calm then I felt.

**"For many months now, I have enjoyed your company. It has occurred to me, that conversing with you would be easier if you were here, in the Dreaming."**

"I'm here now." I said.

**"I...I meant all the time. Not just nightly." **

I was shocked, and part of me was secretly excited. He wanted to talk to me more than he already did. And, he wanted me here.

I stammered out the best answer I could. "I...I need to think about that."

He looked slightly disappointed. All the same, he reached up and plucked a small sparkling object out of the sky, and regarded it for several moments. 

**"Take this then."** he said, and I stepped closer to him, and took the object from his hand. It was the daintiest rose quartz crystal, that shimmered with the slightest movement, hung on a tiny silver chain. I tentatively put my hand out to take it, pausing, and then I scooped it up, brushing his palm. It was the first time I had ever touched him. 

**"If you change your mind, hold the crystal and ask for me."**

I nodded, and curled my hand tightly around it then. I remember the first feel of it, as tiny as it was, yet infinitely strong. It wouldn't break easily. 

And then I woke up, and as soon as I did, I looked at my hand, where the tiny crystal remained. Smiling, I unhinged the hasp and put it on.

***

Lucien sighed inwardly. The volume he held made him remember some things he would have rather forgotten, but all the same, he found it interesting. A side of the previous Lord of Dreams he had never seen before, and likely never would have. He knew how this story ended, however, and wasn't sure he wanted to hear the end of it again. But, he'd started the book, so he had very little choice now, didn't he.

***

  



	3. Chapter 3

A Game of Lives

Chapter Three

_Pre-dawn light-Intermission of Memories-plastic lawn chair ruminations-Tour guides and followers-girl in the shadows-the making of a home.-_

Author Notes: Ok, Chapter Three. I have an idea that this'll be five or six chapters. Each chapter comes out on the weekend, when I have time to write. I still have no idea if this thing is any good; I rather imagine it to be very slow and boring, and since I have very few reviews, I'll have to assume that. Oh well. I have to keep slapping my wrist from trying to write Morpheus and Nuala's POV. I mean, I already have a Lucien POV floating around, and this is supposed to be Thessaly's story.

  


***

In the morning, as soon as the sun began to warm the sky with pre-dawn light, I slid out of my bed and got dressed. I had work...and I had a decision to make. The necklace was light against my neck, but still strangely odd. And when I moved, it seemed to remind me it was there, always brushing up against the skin and making me self conscious. 

His words kept running in my mind. He wants me there. With him. The facts didn't escape me, but whatever little voice that kept me out of trouble was conspicuously absent. Or, rather, not absent, but very faint and thin, and I had to strain to hear it. 

I had never gone wrong with my voice before. So, why did finding it and listening to it seem to be so damn hard?

  


*** 

Lucien paused from the book once more, remembering. It would be about this time...yes...

_Matthew the raven fluttered into the library, on a beautiful dawn wind, sweet and cool, yet so gentle it didn't even ruffle the pages of the open books on the table. _

_ "Hey Lucien." he croaked in his rough and thick voice. _

_ "Greetings Matthew."_

_ "Lovely day ain't it?" he said, turning his head to look outside._

_ "Mm, I suppose so."_

_ "It's because of his new girlfriend isn't it?" he remarked, as if looking for conformation._

_ "New girlfriend? I wouldn't know the current state of our Lord's love life, nor is it any of my business." he said, a pointed glance to the window. It was a particularly beautiful day, but that proved nothing. _

_ "That's what everyone's saying anyhow. Mervin's upset. He thinks it means bad things are going to happen."_

_ Lucien grunted non-committedly._

_ Matthew continued. "He says that these kind of things don't last."_

_ "Mervin says many things." He pondered. If it were true, then it was also probable that bad times would happen, as soon as the newest woman upset him. The best thing you could hope for, in these cases, he had experienced, was that he would get tired of her, and eventually they would amicably part. _

_ "I think that it might be true, he's been in an odd mood lately. You know, not brooding and dark." But, he remembered, feeling a strange sense of disquiet at the idea. The Dreaming had never been the same after Lord Morpheus had returned, and Lucien noticed that the Lord himself had changed. Maybe he was just apprehensive because of that? _

***

The day passed ever so slowly, and I was no where nearer an answer than I had been before. Give up this job, at this huge library? _He has a bigger one..._

Leave your new apartment?_ He'll have nicer rooms for you..._

And what about my other job? The one that keeps me looking young, and alive? The deals I made, with my coven, when I was but a child?

I didn't have an answer for any of it, but I was getting closer. The more I looked around me as I went about the day, the less I cared. I felt free, and oddly excited, like the feeling one gets before you board a plane, on a big vacation. 

Finally, I left work, and didn't look back. I've walked out on enough jobs in my lifetime, what was one more? I fingered the necklace all the way home, and entered the building. 

"Hey there, Larissa." Helen called from her lawn chair. I nodded. "Why don't you stay here and talk for a bit?"

"I...suppose." I said, rubbing the crystal. She eyed the necklace with a cocked eyebrow, and smiled. 

"That from your friend?" 

"Yes." 

She smiled. "That's sweet. Wanna tell me where you are going so fast every night? Going to call him?" 

_'In a manner of speaking'_, I thought. "Sorta." 

I paused, she nodded. "Listen, " I started, and decided to tell at least one person. Besides, someone would have to take care of this apartment. "he...invited me to his home, to live." 

"Oh, how wonderful." her eyes were glittering. "You gonna take him up on the offer?" 

I nodded. "But, he wants me to move in tonight." 

"Tonight?" she said, surprised. I nodded again.

"I was wondering, if you could, you know, watch my things?"

"In case it doesn't work out?" 

"Yes."

"Of course I will." she promised, and I could see she meant it. I smiled and rubbed my neck. On reflection, if you had seen me then, I probably looked nothing like I do now, or like what I did before. There was an aura of contentment, and excitement, that was so tangible that even the mortals were picking up on it. 

"Oh, I do hope it works out. But remember, just in case it doesn't, your apartment here will always be open." 

I nodded my agreement, and we parted ways after some formalities, and then I was in my room. I threw some favorite garments and other items in my pack, which I slung on my shoulder. Then, I clutched the jewel calmly, and wished for Morpheus to appear. 

And he did, in a showy entrance with smoke that faded around him, and a cape with fine golden embroidery stitched into it twirled around him. Far finer clothing than the slightly dreary t-shirt and jeans he had been wearing in my presence. 

** "Lady Larissa of the Thessalinians**," he said, in a slight bow. 

I smiled. "I decided to take you up on that offer."

He smiled back...and the breath poured out of me, like I had been expecting him to be upset or something. 

**"Are you prepared to leave?"** he inquired. 

"I am." I said and shouldered the pack again. 

**"Very well."** he said, and we gradually faded out from my room to the top of a medieval looking set of stairs. Above the stairs was a large doorway, and above that, and to the sides, were three monsters. A large scarlet wyrm, a rather imposing gryphon, and a hippogriff of the purest white. 

"My lord?" inquired the wyrm.

**"Yes?"**

"Nothing...it's nothing." 

**"Very well. This is the Lady Larissa. You are to permit her free entrance into the castle at anytime." **

"As you wish, sire." said the hippogryph, not exactly pleased. 

***

  


We entered through the large doors, and walked through the halls. He would stop every few moments and point out things that he thought I might find interesting. And, as we walked, the denizens of the Dreaming would walk by, and try to act like everything was normal. I could feel the white hot stares, however, as soon as Morpheus would turn his back, or continue on. I could hear the whispers, like the hot breath of their voices was brushing on my neck.

And I wasn't particularly embarrassed to be there, or upset to hear them whisper. I rather wished they would leave me alone, wait till I was at least out of site. Of course, the person passing by us would eventually slink down a hallway, or use some other means of leaving, and we'd be alone again, until someone or rather, something, passed us again. It felt like the whole of the Dreaming had come out to see us, and after catching a glimpse, would run off to tell someone else, who would then come out to see for themselves.

I tried to pay attention to the rooms instead; each was exactly as would expect a room of the castle of dreams to be; big and magnificent. Some were were gilt and paintings, some were tropical rain forests in bloom, some were indescribable to even me. 

Finally, we came to a very large one. It must have been three stories high. The sunlight streamed in through large stained glass windows, each of which showed a different picture. Had I time, I would have sat down and tried to figure the stories, but my gaze was torn away from the walls to the staircase and the second level. 

**"This is the throne room."** he said, a little grandiously, as if I wasn't already feeling the power that was spelled into the room. 

I nodded, and looked around, at each window. He walked on through the long room, and I followed, coming to the end. It had two doors, one on either side.

** "The rooms in the castle shift constantly,"** and I nodded at this, he'd said that before, **"but these two are always attached to the throne room. That one,"** he indicated the left, **"is my gallery. The other is my suite." **

I felt uncomfortable all of the sudden. That was all very well and good, but I felt uneasy about the prospect of entering his room. And, I didn't like what he was implying, if anything. 

"Where am I staying?"

He looked blank for a just a few moments, a look that made me pang.

**"I...I have not set about creating them yet."** Good answer. 

"Let's go do that then." I said. He nodded, and opened his mouth to say something further, when a felt another presence in the room. He too seemed to notice, and turned his head to regard the staircase

**"Come out from there."** he commanded. I turned around to see whom it was. A small girl stepped out from behind the stairs, and nodded bashfully. 

"Lord Shaper." she seemed to say, so softly I almost didn't catch it. 

**"What were you doing behind there?"** he said, folding his arms, and lifting his head. She almost shrunk visibly, and if possible, her voice fell another octave. I found myself lacking any feelings of upset, because, after a day of being stared at, she marked me as something different. She had another reason for staying behind than to look at the new lady of Morpheus. 

"I...I was cleaning, and..." she trailed off softly. He continued to glare, and she looked so embarrassed and afraid, it wasn't funny. Not afraid for her life, however, it was a different kind of fear, the fear that her master wouldn't be pleased with her. I needed to say something, make this torture stop for her sake. 

"It's ok. You probably didn't want to interrupt the conversation to excuse yourself, did you?" I said, in the most gentle voice I had. Behind me, I could sense his frame shift, which I remember finding peculiar, until I placed the fact that the area echoed his own emotions. 

"Ye..yeah. Please don't be very angry with me, sir." He made no motion to concede the point. 

"Ahem." I helped.

**"Very well. We shall be on our way."** he said, and I felt my grip on this room begin to fade, then it stopped. **"Nuala? Come with us."** She nodded meekly, and we all went from one place to another. This new place was solid white, like a blank sheet, and there were different doors, each leading to a different room, I assumed. As I watched, a large window, with one of those seats underneath appeared. Different furniture followed, with me adding comments as to where the different thing would go. A bed, a dresser, wallpaper, it all appeared according to his whimsy, and my desires. 

The small and drab girl, Nuala, hung off to the side until it was done. It was almost a funny scene, me and him, discussing the color of the sheets, (when I say discussing, I really mean him creating them, me not liking the pattern and him changing them to suit that,) and the girl hanging behind us, both absorbing what was happening, and still looking sorry for herself. 

**"It has grown late,"** Morpheus announced, and nodded towards the window, where the sun had been gone for some time, and I had almost outdone my voice with talking to him. 

"It has." I say. "I think I'll retire now." And he nodded, and turned to leave, then stopped. "Nuala." 

The little fairy had been so patient, sitting there the whole time, not uttering a word. "Yes?" she asked.

**"You shall stay here now, and be Lady Larissa's helper." **

She looked slightly bothered, but covered it up quickly to my eye. "Of course, Lord Shaper." she said. 

**"Good, then I shall bid the two of you adieu for now,"** he said, and vanished from my eye. As soon as he was gone, Nuala and I sighed together. 

"Now what?" I asked her as soon as we had both released our held breaths. 

"I imagine we'll both go sleep. You in your bed, and I'll go to my room." And that's what we did. 

  



	4. Chapter 4

  


A Game of Lives

Chapter Four

_~Wonderful moments~Truth~"I cannot become what I already am"~Declarations and events~Moments of crystal clarity~Alone~Storybook memories~_

  


Author's Note: In case I haven't already stated this, there are a couple of songs that go really well with this fic. In particular, Sister Hazel's Champagne High. If you have a copy, I suggest you play it for the remainder. This just might be the shortest chapter, and for that I'm sorry. This chapter came kicking and screaming, and you're pretty lucky to have it all. 

***

  


What after that, you ask? Well, it was days and days of wonderful things. He hesitantly asked me to go with him the first couple of times; he was nervous I gathered. I thought it sweet and endearing, and agreed. Truth be told, I had misgivings of my own that I shoved away in some part of myself where I couldn't hear it. 

In any matter, I suppose what passed might have accounted for happiness. With him, the possibilities seemed, well, endless, to pun an overused phrase. A nasty pun indeed. 

You'll want an account of what we did, I suppose, the adventures we had riding horses upon sunlit beaches, or the romantic dinners. And romantic they were. We were in love. I longed to spend every waking moment with him, and I imagine he felt the same. We reluctantly parted every day, me to rest, he to his duties, and then met again for another talk, or romantic excursion. They have all blurred together now, except for one. 

"Let's tell the truth." I said, over a glass of white wine. 

**"I always tell the truth. I trust you do the same."**

"I do. But that wasn't what I meant." He nodded.

**"I figured."**

"I meant, let's tell each other the things we keep secret. The things we don't tell each other." 

He eyed me, suspiciously for the first time in a long while, but he relented, and I started. 

"Where were you seventy years ago?"

**"How do you know about that?"**

"My priestess didn't forget the art of auguring when she taught me magic."

**"I was imprisoned in a glass jar."** Hmm...I didn't know that. I think of the witches and warlocks from seventy years past. I can't remember many, but there was very few, maybe only three who could do that trick. 

"That's impressive."

"**It wasn't me they were after. They wanted my sister."**

"Death?" 

**"Yes." **he twirled his own crystal flute glass thoughtfully. 

I snorted then, and maybe giggled. "They were foolish then. You can't trap Death, she either shows up or she doesn't. You can only request her presence." 

**"I know."** he said, and looked off. I frowned. It occurred to me that he was probably embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

"Ok, then, your turn."

He thought for a moment or two, doubtlessly thinking up a tactful way to put this. **"Why aren't you dead?"**

I cocked an eyebrow. "Well, as you well know, no one can make deals with Death. Not even I." 

**"That's not an answer."**

"I traded my services to a very powerful goddess in exchange for a little bit more." I felt a tiny pang as I realized how short my remaining 'extra' years actually were. 

** "I see."**

I needed another question. "Do you ever sleep?"

**"No."**

"Why not?"

**"I cannot become what I already am. None of my family can."**

"So, therefore, Destiny cannot have a destiny."

**"No. He may not walk the paths in his garden."**

"And Death cannot die."

**"No."**

I figure this out in my mind. It's really quite fascinating, if what he says is true, than Despair cannot despair, and Desire doesn't...

At the moment, however, I was more concerned about him. If he doesn't dream, what does he want for the future. I didn't get it then, and the details are still fuzzy to me now.

"That doesn't make sense."

**"You are not the first to think so." **he commented.

"If that is so, how do you..."

**"Do what? Understand those who visit my realm?"**

"Yes." It wasn't the exact question I had intended, but it would do.

**"I cannot dream, but I do understand hope, and fear and imagination, and the other things that my realm is responsible for."**

"I suppose. How do you sleep then?"

**"I usually don't. I think, and stay still for a time until I feel I am ready to work again."**

"Fun." I commented wryly.

**"Is that supposed to be a joke?"**

"I cannot tell jokes, I'm very bad at it. It was sarcasm." I chuckled and took another sip of the wine. 

He nodded. 

"Are you ever lonely?"

**"What?"** he ruffled his hair, trying to look nonchalant. It was one of the things I had picked up on. 

"You heard me the first time."

He frowned. **"I...used to be. I'm not lonely anymore."** The words echoed softly in my mind, making me feel tingly. I had started to feel tense sometime before, like a coiled spring, and it seemed like it was coming loose right then. I recognized the feeling well enough, it had been so long since I had felt that way before. 

It was a premonition. 

"You love me, don't you?" I murmured. I put the wine glass down, fearing my trembling hands would give away something. 

**"I am afraid that I do."**

"Oh." I needed no clarification for that. Looking back on it now, I think my actions read like a tawdry novel you pick up at a supermarket checkstand. But I did them anyhow, and this should be a complete record, I feel, even if I doubt I will ever forget that moment. I kissed him.

There. I said it. I kissed him.

And god, what a kiss. It felt like a moment from Shakespeare, where one of the hero or heroines wax poetically about their true loves. I have to admit, I'm blushing thinking about it. And the rest of it.

And I'm not going to tell you about that part. Fill it in yourselves. That's my memory alone. I replay it everyday, when I see two lovers on the street, or watch a romantic film. To commit it to paper would be a sin, since that was shared between us, and I cannot ask his permission to write it. Because, even if I do burn these pages, I know this story will live on in the Library of Dreams. 

***

I can, however, tell you about what happened after.

I had just fluttered my eyes open, and realized where I was. Next to him, and I smiled. He was still asleep, or whatever accounts for his sleep. And I felt drained, and empty. I think, that already at that point I had begun to wake up from my bliss.

More than anything, that moment is the moment that aches. That burns, even now. I wake up at nights and cry unexpectedly, from longing for his lanky body. Rather than being awkward, it seemed to compliment my shorter shape perfectly. Feeling the cool of his skin next to mine, and marveling at it. 

It was a perfect moment. A moment so complete that the details may become hazy, but the memory of the feeling has etched itself into your soul. 

I recognized it for what it was, and savored every single second as well as I could, until he work up. 

***

I spent the next afternoon looking out the window of my room and occasionally smiling, much to Nuala's bother. It was so easy to get myself lost in the patterns the clouds made on the meadows below, or the glisten of a dew drop on a flower petal. 

The next day was wondering where he was.

And so was the next. 

I was all alone, except for the fairy. She was nice enough, but her cheer at that moment bothered me. She would talk to me about things and keep me busy, with trips to the library and the fashion thing, but she couldn't hide the ugly reality. Morpheus had forgotten all about me. 

  


*** 

  


Lucien himself had to stop reading now. It was like reliving a moment you missed very dearly and knowing that no matter what, it wasn't coming back. For one brief moment there, the Dreaming had seemed at peace. It was like one of those long hazy wonderful periods of time written about only in storybooks and dreams. 

But, he wasn't one to stop reading something because it bothered him. 

  



	5. Chapter 5

A Game of Lives

Chapter Five

_~Words of a forgotten time, guide~the guide to tearing of two hearts~Endgame~A gift of crystal~leaving in the gray mist~_

  


I remember distinctly uttering the words, "I don't know what I am doing," as I wandered the castle one beautiful morning. The staff and dreams went out of their way to avoid me, particularly more than usual. I wandered the halls-despite the danger. I wasn't really afraid at all. 

I paused in front of one door, with a large leather sign nailed to it. The sign read, in gilt letters, 'Library of Dreams, Lucien, Head Librarian." I opened the door cautiously, with just a tiny creek. I stepped inside, eyes to the ceiling. The book shelves soared high into the sky, housing far more books than any mortal shelf ever would. I felt like I was in heaven.

"Hello, ma'am. Please shut the door before any books escape." a very british voice said, in a eloquently dry manner. I obediently did so. 

"Thank you. Welcome to the library of dreams. I'm Lucien."

"The Head Librarian." I quantified.

"Yes. Can I help you find a book? A good fantasy, perhaps?"

"Hah. I'm already living in a fantasy." I muttered, humorously. 

"I'm sorry to hear you feel that way. Shall I leave you to explore on your own?"

As much I would have enjoyed to get lost in a pile of those books, I was more looking for human, or at least living contact.

"No...I think I'll probably need your help. Could you show me around?"

"Certainly." he said, again in that dry british tone, which sounded like the echo of dreams you have when you fall asleep watching old british comedies. And he made a motion to leave the entranceway, and I followed him as he explained each section of the library and what it's purpose was, and where he got the books.

"This section," he said with a sweep of his hand, "is the section for novels never written, except in dreams." I scanned the titles, rabidly. Hundreds of thousands of authors I had read, and authors I had always meant to read lay at my fingertips, but there was one question bursting free.

"Is my novel here?"

He pushed his little glasses higher up onto his nose. "Certainly, madame." he said, and with one swift flicker of his hand, he pulled it off the shelf and handed it to me. It was slim and slender, with a beautiful leather green binding and letters of gilt silver on the cover. "The Midnight Oil." I traced with my fingers, and ruffled through the pages. 

"It's a shame you never published it. I get many authors in here, many famous ones. And often the books left here are strange and disjointed to read, but many times I come across an author who has the ability to keep even a dream story clear and coherent." 

"This was a long time ago," I said. And it would probably be my only legacy, in three years' time. I didn't look forward to that at all. I was running out of time, and at this rate, I would never get an extension, from either Morpheus or the Three Ladies. 

_'And she said to him, her loveless husband, "Was that all I was to you? A pair of spread legs?"_'-I remembered writing that, but the words echoed now in my soul like they never had before. Was that really all I was? His words echoed in my mind, like a ghost from a time before. He had wanted to win the game. 

"I have to go." I said suddenly, and closed the book and handed it to him. He took it from me, but looked confused. 

"Certainly..." he said, as I walked out of the library. It was time to do something about this situation.

I practiced my arguments in my head. I thought of a hundred different solutions, a hundred different distinct possibilities. Maybe I would stay on here as a Librarian. Maybe I would leave, maybe he would be sorry, maybe we would get back together...

No. None of those would work. There was only one way to win. 

***

  


I felt the smooth paneling of the door twice with my knuckles before rapping on the door to the throne room. The door glided open underneath my hand as if it had been open all along. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to make him hurt. The feeling had been suppressed in me so long, but now it was back and it coursed through my veins.

"Dream?" I asked, in the empty throne room. The throne sat on the end of wall, instead of on stairs, like before. I walked up to it and he appeared. He looked-I don't know. A mixture of confused, perhaps, and angry, and maybe even a little worried. The sight of him made my body tense, and I dropped my head, and allowed my hair to drop in front of my face. 

"Don't even say anything-until I've finished." I growled, and felt a course of adrenaline rush through me, making my body quiver, just a bit. He opened his mouth, but then shut it, and I swear, upon looking back, I might have quirked the corner of my mouth at this. Oh, it was going to be so good. I could control my feelings...

"I should have known better. From the beginning, I should have known better. Every little girl in Greece was always warned about this. Beware the gods, girls, they play their own games and anyone can become swooped up in one and then tossed aside."

"I knew all about it. But, I ignored it, I thought this was different. That this would be something special, we had built, I don't know, a foundation. I was wrong." I paused, for dramatic effect, and savored the moment. I felt like I had his heart in my teeth and I was slowly tearing it up. 

"I was wrong. Because, I guess when you have eternity, you can afford to spend a few months on your one night stands." The words came out bitter and spiteful, and I began to loose control of myself. I shook and began to cry slightly. Was I just acting? It was all leaving me, everything that had been bottled up when we had sex and he disappeared...

He stood up and opened his mouth to speak, and I screamed. "NO! You don't have the right to speak right now, dammit! It's my turn. Was that all I was? Was sex for you? A challenge to conquer? Did you think it was funny, that you could manipulate my heart as easily as you could my dreams?" And from somewhere outside, I could hear the crackle and thunder of lightning. 

I laughed, the desperate, tear-stricken laugh that comes when you can barely grasp enough air to speak. It was all too easy. It was the endgame, checkmate me. All in the next move, and it was so funny, so funny. I won, not he-it was his fault he lost. Not any of mine. And he had left that path so open to play. 

"Ooh, Morpheus. It's too funny, really it is. You thought you could beat me in this game and you can't. Because you thought you could win by making me feel used. It was the plan all along for you wasn't it? It's just to bad I got there first." 

"You thought two couldn't play at that game, that a girl could never have aspirations of a challenge like that? That a witch couldn't brag to her fellows about having the dream lord in her snare for a night? I wonder." The tears stopped, and so did the shaking. I was in control again, just a touch. 

I laughed a little, a gentle laugh that I had for my victims, that made them feel small. "It was my fault. I let the game go on to long. But I did a good job at it, didn't I? You really did believe that I loved you. So, you always were better at these than me. But in the end, dream-lord, who won?" I wasn't even really looking at him as I dealt the final blow. It didn't matter if he knew the words were a lie or not. They were there and couldn't be taken back.

He sat down in his throne slowly and I slunk out. The tears came back, at the thought of him, sitting there, so desperately wishing I hadn't said those things. That they could be taken back, that he could apologize for what he had done. But that was the genius of it, he had no where to move.

And I couldn't tell if I felt good or bad about it in the end.

***

  


I ran back to my rooms, but the hallways were stark empty. As if the thunder and lightning had warned the dreams that this was no time to be out. And they were right, it wasn't. As I ran, I sniffed back the mucus that drips after a long cry, and I felt the crystal pendent swing gently around my neck. 

I opened the door with a wide swing, and I noticed it was pitch black, except for the gentle reflection of a fairy's eyes from the light from the hall. She walked up to me quickly, and clasped my hand. 

"Thank goodness you're back! It's no time for anyone to be out when he's in one of his moods!" I laughed and held her hand, and then maybe she noticed my red eyes and tear streaked cheeks.

"I know, Nuala. I have to leave." She put her hand to her mouth and looked a bit shocked. I gathered my things really quickly, whatever I had brought, or perhaps, wanted to keep. I shoved them in my pack as quickly as possibly while Nuala protested. 

"What's going on? Has something happened?" she said, behind me. I took her hand once more. 

"I won the game." I said, and then looked at her again. "Listen to me. I know all about you, and I just want you to promise me something. Keep yourself safe, and watch out for him. He's not as invincible as he thinks he is. "

"What...I...Watch out for who?"She said, not as confused as she was pretending to be. I chuckled.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about." I said, and unclasped the pendent. "Here, take this. It'll help remind you." I said, and put it in her hand. I took my backpack, and then I walked out of there, leaving the fairy in the dark.

I made a beeline for the door, alone. I said good-bye to Lucien, and thanked him for the tour, and then I walked out the big double doors, out from underneath the guardians, into the rain and the mists and the thunder and lightning.

I turned, only once. I was swept with the desire to run back in, to tell him I hadn't meant it. But just as when I was in the throne room, I couldn't have taken it back for the world. And after a bit, I turned and I left. Into my future. 

***

  


  


  



	6. Epilogue

A Game of Lives

Epilogue

When I appeared, she was already feeding the last of the pages to the flames in her bathroom. As the page she was holding crumbled into dust in her hand, and she let it drop into the bathtub to allow the flames to gut it the rest of the way, she turned and saw me.

"Hello, Lucien." she tucked her hair, now cut short behind her ears. 

"Hello, Larissa." 

"It's been what...three years since the funeral?" I asked gently. It had been the last time I saw her. 

"I know. It doesn't seem that long at all, does it?" and she shook her head, as if to clear the memories.

"Yes. Almost four, now." and the silence dropped between us. 

"So, I know why you are here." she said, and looked away, with only a nod towards the volume in my hand to guide me. As if I hadn't known already.

"Yes. I find it a shame-" I said, pushing my glasses up, "that you destroyed it."

"What would you have me do? Publish it?"

"Yes." She looked at me, shocked.

"You have to be kidding me. What for?"

"I find that you are harboring tremendous amounts of guilt towards the whole incident-"

"-Not entirely undeserved." she added, in a silky deadly tone that I could imagine she last used with my previous Lord.

"Yes. Well, I thought it might help you." She glared at me, her hair falling in her face. And then she looked at the chunks of ash littering her tub floor, and sighed.

"They would think of it as a fairy tale written by an author. It wouldn't be real to them." she said, her words bouncing gently off the bathtub's porcelain surface. 

"For some it would. Some might take it to heart, and listen and learn from the past." She looked dubious. I've seen that face a hundred thousand times as dreamers entered the library and were shocked to hear me tell them where their books were. She rubbed at the scorch marks on the tub's floor. 

"Larissa," I gently prodded. 

"Oh, ok. I'll do it." she said and held her hand out for the book. I slid it into her hands and she felt the heft of it and rubbed the gilt letters, as if lost in a memory she knew I would know about.

I turned to leave. "Lucien..." she paused.

I looked back at her. "You're welcome, Larissa."

"Why are you doing this?"

I stopped. "I don't know. By rights, I should hate you for what you did, but a part of me knows that it was more him than you. In the end, I mean."

"Maybe." she sounded unconvinced.

"In any case, it doesn't matter so much now. That was long ago, by my reckoning. A whole different era. Sweet Dreaming, Larissa." I said, as I faded out. 

  


  


  


  


Author's big end note: This was the longest fic I've ever written, and in the end, I just don't know about it. At times, I feel it was a big success, and at other times, I long to delete the whole thing and forget I ever wrote about it. I was going to write a hellishly long end note, explaining the theory behind chapter 4, why I chose to have the whole thing work this was and what not. But in the end, I think you can figure it out for yourself.

Or, if you still have questions, you could e-mail me at [skywaterlv@hotmail.com][1]. I always love to answer mail. It makes me feel like I did something that people care about. 

Also, there is a sequel, of sorts, that has been rolling around in my head since I first structured this out. If you'd like to hear that story too, it would be appreciative if you told me so. Thank you for reading. 

-Tori Morris.

PS: Please review!

   [1]: mailto:skywaterlv@hotmail.com



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